Things Shatter
by senglyyy
Summary: Twins are supposed to be alike, but for prince brothers Isak and Bjorn of Arendelle, that statement couldn't be any further from the truth. Everyone believes Isak is the best candidate for King - even his parents, Princess Anna and Jarl Kristoph - but when Queen Elsa takes a special interest in Bjorn and his unique power, will things change? ((Takes place 18 years after Frozen))
1. 1 - A Little Marzipan Can Do Wonders

**Chapter One - A Little Marzipan Can Do Wonders**

* * *

"Six o'clock, your majesty."

Hedda, one of the few ladies-in-waiting employed at the royal castle, entered the young prince Bjorn's room. Lately it was in her routine to wake the young prince, though the job had been previously reserved for the castle steward. The man had recently quit his job, making quite the scene at the time, storming out of the castle and throwing curses over his shoulder. She and the other ladies still tsked over it, and they all agreed that the man was lucky the royal family of Arendelle was so forgiving.

She drew the shades and the young prince groaned, pulling the blankets over his head.

"Lemhp me alonph," he mumbled into his pillow.

She suspected the steward quit because of this sort of difficulty. Hedda braced herself for more of such behavior.

"Now you know I can't hear you when you mumble like that," she responded, laying out his clothes for the day delicately unto a wooden dresser. "And I recommend that you make it to breakfast on time this morning, lest you upset your parents." Even as she said it, Hedda knew the threat was weak. Princess Anna and Jarl(1) Kristoff were not known for their sternness. If anything, it would be the young prince's master who would scold him for any tardiness.

"Fivmf morf mimphts," he said.

Hedda sighed and shook her head, realizing the situation was futile. Her opinion of the prince's ex-steward morphed from condemnation to understanding pity. Leaving the room and closing the large wooden doors behind her, she resolved in her mind to seek the prince's master's assistance. She was about to go on her way when she saw a familiar figure in the long hall walking toward her.

It was the elder prince Isak of Arendelle – elder by just six minutes to prince Bjorn. Their age (sixteen) and their figures (tall and lanky, though Hedda kept that opinion to herself) were about all they shared. Isak had short, neatly trimmed blond hair and narrow, discerning blue eyes. Bjorn, quite the opposite, had shaggy, ginger hair that's length hid large, mischievous brown eyes. Personality wise, they were also poles apart.

"Good morning, Hedda," prince Isak said, nodding his head to her. Hedda bowed in return, as custom. He stopped in front of her, and with a slight, knowing tilt of his lip asked, "Is my dear brother giving you trouble?"

"He always is, your majesty. He seems unwilling to part with his bed sheets." Hedda threw a disapproving look over her shoulder toward the sleeping prince's closed doors. "I was about to go grab Ingolf…"

The prince held up his hand, cutting her off. "Please, Hedda, allow me. I have no problem helping my brother get ready."

She was unsure.

"Really, I want to. I won't tattle either," Prince Isak assured her.

Reluctantly, she nodded and bowed her head. "Many thanks, your majesty." As she walked away, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. Master Ingolf would not have been pleased with her for failing.

She hoped Prince Isak would be able to carry out the task. Gods know it was never easy when the young prince Bjorn is involved.

* * *

Bjorn heard Isak before he saw him.

His brother had a very specific manner of carrying himself, one that could be heard – and Bjorn began to familiarize himself with it at very young age. It began with his brother's shutting of the doors behind him, gingerly, but with determination. His brother's shoes tapped softly and swiftly against the marble as he walked, and one could hear the meaning and confidence put into each step he took. His brother never breathed heavily, or yawned, or – Bjorn laughed inwardly thinking about it – let out any sort of gas be it from the mouth or places more crass. In many ways, Isak was a walking mannequin, at least around other nobles. It was what made him the most likely candidate for king, and Bjorn had no problem with that.

"Bjorn." Isak's voice was quiet, yet sliced through air like a knife through warm butter. The single word was laced with disapproval.

Bjorn threw the pillow that had been covering his face to the side. Light shined into his eyes and he winced. When they adjusted, he sat up and saw Isak leaning against the wall, one leg propped over the other, arms crossed over his chest. "Don't 'Bjorn' me like that," the ginger boy said groggily, rubbing his eyes.

"Why is it that you cause your attendants so much trouble?" Isak asked, ignoring him. "You know they just desperately want to do their jobs."

"All I wanted was five more minutes…" Bjorn said, sticking out his upper lip at what to him was an obvious injustice.

"Oh, quit pouting. Just get up. Mother, father, and Queen Elsa are waiting for us to join them for breakfast in the dining hall."

Isak grabbed the clothes Hedda had laid out and threw them at Bjorn. "Hey!" the younger prince yelled, getting hit in the face by a pair of trousers. "Watch it!"

"You have five minutes to get ready. I'll be waiting outside your door."

"Alright, alright, just get out of here," Bjorn conceded.

"Five minutes, Bjorn – I mean it."

"I get it, just go!"

"Fine." Isak left but before shutting the door, he poked his head in, saying, "Also, I forgot to mention – the cooks prepared your favorite this morning – marzipan torte(2)."

Bjorn eyes widened. "What! Marzipan torte? Why didn't you say something earlier?" And with that, the young prince launched into action, newly inspired to get ready quickly. He could hear Isak stifle a laugh just outside his door.

* * *

"Bjorn, you decided to join us for breakfast this morning, I see!" his mother, Princess Anna of Arendelle, observed, smiling widely. She was the younger sister of the Queen, and, like Bjorn himself, much more carefree and playful than her sibling counterpart. She was well-known throughout the kingdom for not only her kindness, but her notorious clumsiness. He believed he inherited much of his personality from her.

Smiling back, Bjorn sat down at his usual seat. His mouth watered for marzipan.

"It's been awhile since you've gotten up this early," his father, formally known as Jarl Kristoff, said. "I'd say it's about time. You boys are both too skinny. You need to muscle up like your old man." As he said this, he pounded his chest and grinned. His mother rolled her eyes.

Bjorn and Isak's father, built tall and strong, was not born into royalty, but rather married into it. It was not typical for a Princess to marry a commoner, but his mother was never one to abide by social norms, and the kingdom had fallen prey to his charming goofiness and generosity to those lower in class. He now commanded over much of Arendelle's trade and general economics.

Isak waited for the servant to help him with his chair so he could sit. When he did, he placed his napkin neatly on his lap. "You know we didn't all shovel ice in our youth, father," he said amusingly.

His father grinned. "Damn right you didn't – but this winter I'm teaching you the tools of the trade! I don't care what that old master of yours says – some outdoors time besides archery and horse-riding is just plain good for you."

"I'd agree with that," Queen Elsa said, taking a sip of tea. From the top of her glass, her eyes seemed to appraise Bjorn. His family was very close to the Queen, seeing as though she was his mother's sister. Still, he didn't talk with Queen Elsa much, certainly not as much as his brother Isak did.

To be honest, he found her a little intimidating. Not because she was strict or mean – she was really quite the opposite – but the amount of power she held in Arendelle was tremendous. Power, having two connotations. He had witnessed her ice magic many times before, and it never ceased to astound him.

Lately, she had been giving him strange looks. Like she knew something he didn't. It made him feel very uneasy.

His thoughts were interrupted by a heavenly smell. The servants brought out plates of fruit salad, various cold cuts, and oh – there it was – marzipan torte! Bjorn fidgeted in his seat, suddenly finding the distance from the other end of the table to his very, very long.

His mother laughed. "Someone's hungry! You look like you're about to jump out of your seat!"

"He's ravenous," Isak rolled his eyes, and – trying to hide his smile - plucked some fruit from his plate and brought it gingerly to his mouth.

"That's what I like to see!" his father exclaimed. "A healthy appetite! You should join us for breakfast more often."

"Only if you serve marzipan torte every morning," Isak murmured. Only Bjorn heard him, but he chose to ignore it. Nothing could distract him now.

When he finally got his wonderful torte, he dug his face in like a wolf attacking its prey. His mother threw him a sidelong glance, warning him to slow down. He did, reluctantly. He still finished long before the others, and wiped his sugar-coated mouth with his napkin.

"That was sooooo good," Bjorn said, leaning back in his chair and placing two hands over his stomach. "That meal gave me a food baby."

"Bjorn!" his mother and Isak exclaimed at the same time. A nearby servant looked shocked. Queen Elsa and his father laughed.

Eventually, the others finished one by one, and the servants came to take away the empty trays. Bjorn's mother looked toward him and Isak. "You two have your training soon, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, mother," Isak said. He looked toward Bjorn. "We should probably get going." Bjorn nodded in agreement and they both stood, preparing to leave. "Thank you, Queen Elsa, for allowing us the honor of joining you for breakfast this morning," Isak said, bowing. She smiled and nodded her head, looking slightly uncomfortable. Bjorn crinkled his nose. Sometimes even he couldn't believe his brother.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

(1) Jarl - Scandinavian noble ranking immediately below the king.

(2) Marzipan torte - a type of sweet cream cake.

Aaaaaand that's the end of chapter one! This is my first attempt at fanfiction ever, so please, please, please, tell me what you all think!

-I just want to note that I am going to try and make things throughout this story as historically accurate to medieval Norwegian times as possible, though, because I'm not an expert – I will make mistakes. Let me know when I do! I may or may not change them though, depending on how much they affect the story. After all, it is fiction.

Anyway, I hope to update every week, and if I don't make that deadline, every two. Some chapters will be longer than others, and others will be shorter. Thank you for reading and I hope you come back for the next installment! Adios~


	2. 2 - Horses, Housemaids, and Hooky

**Chapter Two – Horses, Housemaids, and Hooky**

* * *

Master Ingolf, as far as he believed, had the most difficult job in the castle of Arendelle: molding two spoiled brats into poised, sophisticated aristocrats worthy of the title of King.

He did not enjoy his job, no, but he did accept the fact that he was the only one - in his mind, at least - capable of accomplishing such a daunting task. And for that reason, he chose not to give up on the twin princes, unlike a certain despicable steward by the name of Oddvar Ellestad; the man had disgraced the entire royal family with his failure. Ingolf made sure that that name was blacklisted across the kingdoms of Scandinavia (1). The man would be lucky to find work as a farmhand.

Ingolf, who was currently waiting at the stables for the princes' morning session, took out his pocket watch and pursed his lips. Ten minutes before their lesson began. He suspected the young prince Isak would arrive on time – as he usually did – and the younger prince Bjorn would arrive late – as he usual did. He could see it now – the insurgent prince stumbling into session fifteen minutes behind schedule, shirt unbuttoned and garish orange hair in disarray. Things like this led any clear-minded person to believe the position of king was up for no dispute. Isak was the obvious choice, as it had been since the two were just barely walking.

Still, even if Bjorn had no future as ruler of the kingdom, according to the Queen Ingolf had the contracted responsibility of making them _both_ worthy candidates. As he held his pocket watch, he reminded himself that at least time was on his side, and for that he was grateful. Queen Elsa was in no position to leave the throne any time soon.

Surprisingly enough, when Isak arrived he had Bjorn at his side. The ginger prince was still a mess, with dabs of sugar on his cheeks and his bunad (2) buttoned incorrectly, but he was there, and that was an accomplishment worth praising in and of itself.

"Good morning Master." They bowed.

"Prince Isak, Prince Bjorn," Ingolf nodded his head to them, bowing slightly. "Good to see you are both here on time." He put extra emphasis on "both", receiving a sheepish smile from Bjorn in return. After a pause he continued, "We are going to practice our horse-riding today. Go and obtain your steed, then return to me. Be quick with it."

They nodded and together walked into the stables, while Ingolf mentally prepared himself for another long two hours of training. At least while he was waiting, he had a nice view of one of the finer-looking housemaids, a woman named Signe, scrubbing clothes inside a wash basin. When she spotted him staring, her cheeks turned a delectable shade of red, and she turned back to her work, scrubbing madly. While working with the young princes was difficult, Ingolf noted, living in the castle did have its perks.

* * *

When Isak entered the stable, he took in every sight, smell, and sound.

The long, wooden building that housed the royal horses was – besides his bedroom and perhaps the library – his favorite place to pass time. He enjoyed the crunch of hay beneath his shoes, and the music of constant neighing and hooves clapping against hard ground. He liked that the stable was enclosed in the winter, a warm respite for horses and stable hands alike, and open to the elements in the summer, allowing sun to shine in and coat the room in a warm glow. He found horses themselves beautiful, and his horse the most pristine of them all.

Her gate was near the back, besides the rest of the royal family's. She was striking, with a snow white coat and a long grey mane that cascaded down the length of her neck. She was built with the powerful legs of a fjord horse (3), but the sleek torso of a mustang, and her eyes were a bright, piercing blue that matched his own. When she saw him, they appeared to light up. The two of them were very close. Isak often recounted fondly the memory of when his family purchased her from a trader for his twelfth birthday, back when she had been just a filly.

From a nearby container, the prince grabbed a cube of sugar and held it out, allowing her to eat from his hand. He pet her mane gently, smiling. "Hello, Petra." He fed her another cube and she neighed appreciatively, nestling her head against the palm of his hand. "You want to go for a ride?" She seemed to nod her head up and down as if in response, causing Isak to laugh. "I'll take that as a yes."

"C'mon, horsey," Bjorn groaned. "Just a little bit this way…" Isak noticed his younger brother's horse was still inside its gate. Bjorn tugged hard on the animal's reins. His horse, a brown and white spotted stallion, resisted against the pull, bringing his two front legs high into the air before releasing them down upon the floor with a loud thud. The action shocked Bjorn and – to Isak's and the other stable hands' great amusement - caused him to fall clumsily unto his butt.

"May I ask what you think you're doing?" Isak asked, looking down at his brother with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm trying to get Bravefoot to come out of the gate!" Bjorn said, standing up and wiping hay off his trousers. "But the stubborn thing won't move." He shot a glare at the stallion, and Isak could've sworn it shot the same look back.

Isak approached his brother's horse, and put a sugar cube near its mouth, like he had done with Petra. The stallion ate it up greedily. "You have to be gentle, like this," he said, rubbing the horse's neck. Slowly he coaxed the horse out so that it stood next to his own.

Bjorn blinked, surprised. "How'd you do that?"

"They're creatures, just like us, brother. They want to be respected."

Bjorn looked puzzled by the concept, but he thanked Isak, and they both began to saddle up their horses. When they were done getting geared up, the brothers each put a foot on the stirrups and climbed onto their saddles. "Ready?" Isak asked. Bjorn nodded. "Then let's go."

Outside, Master Ingolf was waiting for them. "We are going to practice vaulting today," he said. "The servants have set up the perimeters and hurdles, so if you are ready, I'll ask you to begin."

The brothers started, warming up their horses first by trotting around the perimeter. When Isak felt Petra was fit to begin, he shifted his weight forward, gripping Petra's reigns tightly in his hands. With a "yaw!", he clicked his stirrup against her side and squeezed, causing her to jolt forward toward the first hurdle. Clutching the mare's mane, Isak focused straight ahead of him and began to feel the synchronization of their rhythms. As he neared the hurdle, he squeezed her again and she flew through the air, passing over it and landing neatly on all fours.

"Good, Isak!" his master praised. "Bjorn – follow your brother's lead! Try your best not to screw up this time, yes?"

Bjorn was behind him, and Isak could see that he was struggling to establish his own rhythm with Bravefoot. For a moment, he felt guilty. He knew he always received the praise from their master, while Bjorn always received reprehension for being slower. Isak tried, but had difficulty imagining coming second at something. He had always surpassed Bjorn at history, mathematics, horse-riding, archery, etiquette… The list went on. Between the two of them, Isak had always been first, even when it came to their births. He wondered if it was ever like that between his mother and Queen Elsa.

Eventually, after a very long two hours, the two boys finished vaulting practice, horses sweating after the strenuous effort. They trotted over to Master Ingolf to receive their evaluations.

He started with Bjorn. "Young Prince Bjorn. Your vaulting today was…" The man trailed off, and Isak saw the look of nervous anticipation in Bjorn's eyes. "Lacking much to be desired, to say the least." His brother's expression drooped, reminding Isak of an abandoned puppy, left outside in bad weather. "I see that you're trying but it simply isn't good enough. Try harder. On another note…" He turned toward the older prince. "Prince Isak, admirable job as always. Your gift at vaulting is evidence of your deep connection with your horse. Perhaps you can teach a thing or two to your younger brother, hmm?"

Again, Isak felt guilt flood through him, but he responded, "Thank you Master," and bowed to him atop his horse. Bjorn, looking dejected, did the same.

"Go inside and remove your horses' harnesses. Then meet me back out here. We are going to continue our lesson from yesterday on European geography-"

"Wait," Bjorn cut him off, and then apologized quickly, seeing anger flash across his master's face. He continued, however, "It's been two hours. Our next lesson doesn't begin until the afternoon. We have break until then."

"Well I don't think you deserve a break," he answered, still irritated over being cut off. "Perhaps Isak did well today, but you did not. And therefore you both have to suffer. Now go put away your horses and return to me, quickly."

For a second, Bjorn hesitated, and Isak thought he would argue, but instead his brother narrowed his eyes, bowed, and went off with Bravefoot through the stable doors. Isak followed behind him.

"Are you alright, brother?" Isak asked cautiously, as they both began to remove the saddles from their horses and harness them to their gates. "I know our Master can appear callous at times, but truly he just wants to help…" He trailed off when he noticed his brother's demeanor, fists clenched and shoulders raised, his body trembling. "Brother?"

Bjorn turned, suddenly. His eyes were shining with hot tears of anger, and his cheeks were a deep hue of red. "You don't get it okay? Everyone likes you! No matter what I do, I can't be better than you. I just…" He looked at the ground. "I feel like you don't even have to try."

Isak felt like arguing, telling him that yes, he tried very hard, but he chose to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. Bjorn looked at him in surprise. "Do you want to skip class, brother?"

The younger prince was taken aback. "What? You? Me? You're asking ME to skip class with YOU?" he asked, confused. He wiped at his eyes and his cheeks slowly began returning to their normal shade.

"Yes, I am. What is it they call it? Playing hooky?"

For a while, there was a long pause. The two of them stood there beside their horses, completely silent. Then, suddenly and loudly, Bjorn laughed, the anger disappearing from him completely. "Hooky! You? Playing hooky?" He seemed to find this hilarious, and Isak thought he might collapse on the floor in a fit of giggles. Eventually, he calmed down, and took a moment to catch his breath. "Are you…sure?" he asked.

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't sure." Well, that wasn't true. Isak _wasn't_ sure. But he didn't want to admit that.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do it," he said, grinning widely. Isak found his smile contagious.

"Alright then. We'll sneak out the back." He jutted a finger toward their end of the stable. "Ingolf will never know – he'll be too busy bothering the wash maids."

As they turned to leave, Isak considered what this meant. He knew it could be detrimental, especially to his master's opinion to him. For a split second, he thought of turning back. Then, he saw his brother open the stable doors, looking happier than Isak had seen him in awhile. He gestured for Isak to come. "This way, brother!" he said.

In that moment, he made up his mind, joining Bjorn at the door. One day of hooky couldn't possibly hurt.

* * *

It was hours before Bjorn and Isak returned to the castle. When they finally stumbled into the grand hall, laughing and smiling, their parents, the Queen, and Master Ingolf had already been waiting for them. Their merriment quickly turned into fret for the explosion to come.

"You… You two…" Master Ingolf was fuming, and Bjorn thought with fright that his head might implode. "I've never seen such disrespect – such insolence – such, such…" The younger prince continued to entertain the thought, imagining the servants mopping up chunks of Ingolf from the floor. Under other circumstances he would've laughed.

His mother, Princess Anna, put a hand on Ingolf's arm to comfort him. The action caused him to calm down slightly. "Boys, what were you thinking?" she asked. "You know that you're training is important… And to just leave poor Ingolf like that…"

"Oh, he had his wash maids," Bjorn said, causing Ingolf to flare up again and start spitting insults at his students.

"How dare you! You worthless, nitwitted-"

"Ingolf!" his mother exclaimed. He shut up quickly, though his fury did not subside. He resorted to heated glares, aimed at both Bjorn and Isak.

"I'm sorry, mother. And father, and Master Ingolf, and…" Isak looked over to Queen Elsa. Feeling ashamed, he ducked his head. "We didn't mean to cause trouble. We were just having fun is all."

Their father nodded. "We know. You're kids, after all. You deserve some fun now and then." Master Ingolf stared at him shock, and the Jarl added quickly, "Though you shouldn't have just left like that. It was very disrespectful to your teacher."

Bjorn and Isak turned to their teacher. "We're sorry," they said. And Bjorn really was, he could tell that Isak was too. He didn't regret what he did, but he realized it had been impolite, even to someone as unpleasant as their master. "We won't do it again," Isak added.

"Where did you two go?" their mother asked curiously. Again, Ingolf was dumbfounded by their parent's lack of scolding and anger.

"Are you just going to let them get away with this?" he asked, incredulous. "They deserve punishment! Severe punishment! These little cretins should learn their lesson by helping the servants clean the latrines…" He sneered at the princes.

The Queen, who had been silent this whole time, took the moment to speak. "Excuse me, Ingolf," she said.

The room stood still. Ingolf turned apprehensively to face the Queen. "Y-yes? Your majesty?"

She walked over to him, the tap-tapping of her heals and the sound of her robes dragging against the marble floor deafening amidst the silence of the Great Hall. Nearby servants who had been observing the cacophony left the room. Bjorn, Isak, and their parents watched quietly as the Queen stood in front of Ingolf, and with a slow, reasoning voice, said, "You may be my nephews' teacher, but you do not hold the right to impose punishment on them. That right is reserved for my sister and her husband. Isak and Bjorn have apologized to you, and they've promised not to repeat their mistake again." He began sputtering, but she held up a hand, quieting him. "I would be more inclined to your side of the argument, had you not extended their lesson longer than the two hours you and I agreed upon. It was no wonder they were seeking a break. Now, I suggest you leave, before you say anything else you'll regret."

Ingolf stood, speechless. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he straightened up, adjusted his collar, and bowed. "Your majesty." His face was flushed but Bjorn saw the coldness in his eyes, and it sent chills down his spine. Then, heel-to-toe his Master walked toward and exited the door of the Great Hall, leaving one dumbfounded family and one very satisfied Queen behind.

"Now," she turned to Bjorn and Isak, a smile on her face. "Where did you two go? I'd love to hear all about it."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

(1) Scandinavia - a historical and cultural-linguistic region in Northern Europe characterized by a common ethno-cultural Germanic heritage and related languages, which includes the three kingdoms of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. In this story, Arendelle - which closely resembles Norway - is a part of the Scandinavian region.

(2) Bunad - a traditional Norwegian costume worn by both men and women.

(3) Fjord Horse - The Fjord horse or Norwegian Fjord Horse is a relatively small but very strong horse breed from the mountainous regions of Western Norway.

In response to reviews:

Amaryllis - Thank you so much for my first review! :) Your suggestions were noted, and I decided to edit the first chapter a bit. Hopefully Anna and Kristoph are a little more in character now, haha. I will try to shed more light on Isak's personality throughout the story. Thank you again! I would love to hear more suggestions!

Guest - I know you are anonymous, but you were my only other reviewer so I just want to say thank you! You know who you are ;)

To everyone else, please, please, please send reviews! Anything and everything is appreciated! Thank you for reading, and chapter three is on its way :)


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